Racing the Sun(38)

Fuck that. “I’m not going away,” I tell him, any sympathy I had for him immediately gone. “You’re drunk and I’m all alone with the kids. Where is Felisa?”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. He starts laughing to himself.

I smack his shoulder hard. The laughing stops, and if looks could kill, I would already be buried at sea by now. “Don’t touch me,” he says.

I swallow uneasily. I don’t know what kind of a man he is when drunk, but I think he’s an absolute douchebag. “I won’t touch you,” I try to say through an unsteady breath, “if you just tell me what the hell is going on. Where is Felisa? Did she leave? Everything in her room is gone and she isn’t here.”

He leans toward me, trying to reach for his bottle. I kick it out of the way and then take a careful step backward. He glares at me. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Well, I am here,” I tell him, folding my arms. “Trying to prevent my boss from dying of alcohol poisoning.”

“You know nothing about me,” he sneers.

“And that’s your fault, not mine. I’ve been trying. You’re a closed-off asshole half the time.”

His head jerks back at that. Perhaps it was a little harsh and uncalled for, but still.

“La leonessa esce a cacciare,” he says with deliberation. “So, the lion comes out to prey.”

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I just don’t know what to do. Where is Felisa?”

He turns away from me, his chin dipping toward his chest, his eyes staring blankly at the space in front of him. “She left. She quit.”

“She quit?!” I can’t help roaring.

“Yes,” he says, softer now. “She is gone.”

“Why? What happened?”

“It was, how you say, a long time coming.”

“You knew,” I say, pointing my finger at him. “You knew this was happening, that’s why we were sent away today.”

“Yes,” he says thickly. “I knew something was wrong. She was trying to fight with me. I didn’t want to fight with you all here. So I sent you away. Then we fought and she quit.”

“But why?”

He eyes me and gives me a sour smile. “Because I am no longer the son that she raised. And she is no longer welcome here. I don’t need anyone to compare me to the man I once was. That man is gone. I hope you understand that. Capisci?”

“Non capisco,” I tell him. “And I never knew the man you were before. I barely know you now.”

“Then let’s keep it that way.” He attempts to get up but lists to the side. I go to him, trying to help him out of his chair.

“Get away from me,” he yells, violently shrugging out of my grasp. “You can’t help anyone. You’re useless.”

I immediately let go and step back. “I am not useless,” I tell him, my mouth gaping a little at the pain in my heart. I know they’re just drunk words but they hit home and hit deep. My father, when angry, would call me useless all the time. Stupid and helpless. Always telling me I had to grow up. He was right about it, too—all of it—but I was trying now. I was really trying now.

“I can manage on my own,” he adds, trying to get up again. “I have so far.”

I take in a deep breath and try to ignore the sting of his words, which still flare inside me. “Managing is not the same as living,” I tell him.

“Oh, just go to bed,” he tells me, leaning with both arms on the desk, head hanging forward then rising up and down. As angry as I am, I can’t leave him here in the study. I don’t really trust what he’s going to do; he seems too volatile, and I don’t trust the alcohol in his system. If something were to happen to him, then Alfonso and Annabella really would have no one left.

I take in a deep breath and come back over to him. “I will go to bed once I put you in yours. Capisci?” I wrap my hand over his arm and try to pull him up and toward me. It’s like trying to move a pile of bricks. Eventually, though, he stops muttering Italian protestations and gets up. He smells like gin and cigarettes and lemons, yet somehow it’s almost the best smell in the world.

Together we stumble out of the office and into the hall, nearly colliding with the opposite wall. I’m steady on my feet but he’s so much larger and taller that when he goes in one direction it’s nearly impossible not to go with him.

When we round the corner to the stairs, I look up and my heart grows heavy. Alfonso and Annabella are standing together in their pajamas, watching us. They don’t look scared but they don’t look happy either.